Have started again the evening walks during these orange sunsets,but cant say for how long I would be able to continue; Today was reminded of this while thinking of the absolute indispensability of isolated consciousness.
In all the world, one man has been born, one man has died.
To insist otherwise is nothing more than statistics, an impossible extension.
No less impossible than bracketing the smell of rain with your dream of two nights ago.
That man is Ulysses, Abel, Cain, the first to make constellations of the stars, to build the first pyramid, the man who contrived the hexagrams of the Book of changes, the smith who engraved runes on the sword of Hengist, Einar Tamberskelver the archer,Luis de Leon, the bookseller who fathered Samuel Johnson,Voltaire's gardner,Darwin aboard the Beagle, a Jew in a death chamber,and,in time,you and I.
One man alone has died at Troy,at Metaurus,at Hastings,at Austerlitz, at Trafalgar, at Gettysburg.
One man alone has died in hospitals, in boats, in painful solitude, in the rooms of habit and of love .
One man alone has looked on the enormity of dawn.
One man alone has felt on his tongue the fresh quenching of water,the flavour of fruit and of flesh.
I speak of the unique, the single man, he who is always, Alone.
~Jorge Luis Borges
PS:Yes I collect memories of public benches from all over.